


Pining for the Fjords

by syzygy_mellifluous



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: A little angst maybe? Idk, Childhood Sweethearts, F/M, Fluff, Lots of talking about death in this one so I would steer clear if that makes you uncomfortable, Mutual Pining, They just can't touch, They're both aware, pushing daisies!au, temporary major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24737761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syzygy_mellifluous/pseuds/syzygy_mellifluous
Summary: Kristoff Bjorgman has the ability to bring the dead back to life with the touch of a finger - and only a few rules. After joining forces with a private detective, Kristoff finds himself in a difficult position when he brings his childhood sweetheart, Anna, back from the dead.The only condition is that they can never touch each other, or else Anna will die, again - but this time, it will be permanent.
Relationships: Anna/Kristoff (Disney)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Pining for the Fjords

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Despite feeling quite burned out, I somehow managed to write another fic (I have no self-control). This is a Pushing Daisies!AU. If you haven’t watched the show, I highly recommend it - and if you live in the United States (and possibly elsewhere, but I don’t know for sure), it’s free on cwseed! I can provide a link for anyone who is interested! Pushing Daisies is one of my favorite shows - it’s morbid, grotesque, and mysterious, but also sickly sweet and fairytale-esque. And the visuals and aesthetics are stunning. It’s also from 2007, which is where I’m convinced I left my brain. This fic draws heavily from the source material, but you don’t have to be familiar with it to understand this fic. Will this be continued? I have no idea. I don’t make decisions lol. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Pining for the Fjords - a euphemism for death. “Used to describe a dead person or animal as a way of convincing somebody that the corpse is not, in fact, dead,” Urban Dictionary.

_Kristoff Bjorgman had a gift. It wasn’t a gift that was nicely packaged with a bow on top, and was rather quite morbid - he could touch someone who had died and bring them back to life. As simple as it sounded, there were terms and conditions that went along with this gift. The first was that he could bring the deceased back to life for one minute only, or someone else would die as a consequence. An eye for an eye, so to speak. The second was that, if he allowed the person he touched to remain alive, he could never touch them again. Or else they would die, again - but this time it would be forever._

_He learned about this arrangement the hard way; as a young child, he hadn’t been exposed to death. At the age of ten, while running in a field with his beloved dog, he would learn about death, and subsequently, his gift, the hard way. For, his dog, Sven, would run into the middle of the street and be struck by a semi-truck before his very own eyes._

_He would race over to the side of his now-deceased dog, and gently rest a hand on the side of his limp body, only for the dog to become reanimated and jump off the ground. In that moment, he was unaware of the consequences of bringing Sven back to life - not too far away, a squirrel would die in place of Sven._

_He returned home that afternoon, with Sven in tow, happily trotting beside him. Across the street from his home lived a pair of sisters; he would often play with the younger of the two, a girl named Anna. In the grand scheme of things, his gift seemed insignificant, for he had fallen in love with Anna. She, herself, was a gift to Kristoff - curious, imaginative, fun, and fearless - and they spent many hours enjoying each other’s company._

_As he watched her play with her father on her family’s lawn from his kitchen window, tragedy would strike for the second time that day. His mother, who had a knack for baking pies, would collapse on the kitchen floor, mere inches from him. Suddenly, his newfound gift would once again prove itself useful. He would slowly approach her body and crouch down next to it, hesitantly touching his index finger to his arm. Immediately, she would gasp for air and rise off the ground, completely unaware of what had happened._

_Unfortunately, the clock continued to tick away, and once sixty seconds had passed, the first caveat of Kristoff’s gift would make itself known. He watched in silent horror as Anna’s father collapsed on the grass across the street, in front of his helpless friend. An eye for an eye; one life in exchange for another._

_The second caveat of Kristoff’s gift would make itself known later that evening; his mother tucked him into bed, and upon placing a goodnight kiss to his forehead, would fall to the floor once again. Only this time, she could not be brought back. And thus he learned that he could never touch a resurrected life, or they would die permanently. It meant he could never pet Sven again. It meant that his mother and Anna’s father became unwitting, and unfortunate, consequences of his gift._

_At their respective parent’s funerals, happening just mere feet from each other, Kristoff and Anna, overcome with grief and puppy love, would have their first and only kiss._

_Immediately following his mother’s funeral, officials from the state would collect Kristoff and take him away from his life, while Anna would remain in the house across the street from his, with her mother and sister. Kristoff would avoid any and all social attachments, fearing what he’d do if someone else he loved died._

_Little did he know, fifteen years later, his life would be turned upside down yet again._

* * *

At the age of twenty-five, Kristoff would find himself in the midst of an unusual business arrangement. Now the owner of a run-down, failing musical instrument shop, and lonely as ever, a chance encounter with a private detective would change his life once again. 

Though Kristoff managed to keep his deep secret to himself for nearly a decade and a half, luck would find him in the wrong place at the wrong time. In the alley behind his shop, as he was throwing out garbage, a man would practically fall from the sky - technically, from the roof of the building - and hit his head on the edge of the dumpster. As luck would have it, the dead man would brush against Kristoff and return to life. Unfortunately for the now undead man, he wouldn’t get to live much longer, as Kristoff was constantly reminded of the two caveats to his gift. Unwilling to have a random person in proximity die, with another simple touch the undead man was once again dead. Unfortunately for Kristoff, there was another man on the roof who witnessed the entire thing - Private Detective Olaf Olson.

“So, how long have you been a necromancer?” The detective asked, once they reconvened inside Kristoff’s empty shop.

Kristoff anxiously rubbed the palms of his hands along the sides of his pants and shook his head. “I’m not a necromancer - at least, I don’t think I am. Is that what I am? Oh god.”

Olaf narrowed his eyes. “How long have you been able to raise the dead?”

He shrugged. “I dunno, my whole life?”

“And nobody ever thought to have you tested? Or send you off to the circus?”

“Nobody else knows - except you. And I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone.”

“Mhmm,” Olaf agreed, sucking in his lower lip and giving Kristoff a scrutinizing glare. He motioned around the shop. “How’s business around here, boss?”

“Um, it’s fine,” he answered, nervously.

“Doesn’t seem to be too busy.”

“I mean, it’s not but...it’s fine.”

Olaf raised a hand to his face. “Well, the good news is that I have a business proposal for you.”

Kristoff’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Yeah?”

“You see, everyday in this city, dead people turn up. Sometimes, these people are murdered without an idea as to who killed them. And when this happens, there’s usually a reward for figuring out who the killer is - a _big_ reward. I get us in to see the body, you take advantage of your _party trick_ , and we split the reward fifty-fifty.”

And so, they did. It was easy, albeit dirty, money. The arrangement itself was rather simple; Olaf was made aware of the terms and conditions, and normally the “transactions” went smoothly. The two men were awarded privacy in the morgue, so long as the coroner was paid off, and Kristoff would set his watch for sixty seconds, ask the deceased who killed them, and then promptly return them to being dead. For a few months, it worked really well, and Kristoff was able to keep his struggling business afloat. He was able to justify it all because it brought justice to the bad people of the world. Until the winter morning that everything got flipped on its head. 

It was a quiet day in January, and Kristoff was sitting in his apartment, which was situated above his shop. The television was on in the background as he lounged on the couch with a bowl of cereal, his dog Sven on the floor a few feet away. Suddenly, the tone of the news program changed to alert its viewers of breaking news.

“The body of a young woman has been found in a snow bank directly outside of a popular ski resort,” the news reporter announced. “While her name is being withheld at this time, it has been confirmed that she was traveling alone at the time of her death. Officials are still unsure if foul play was involved, or if this was some kind of tragic accident.”

Kristoff’s attention was immediately drawn to the unnamed dead woman. For some reason he couldn’t explain, he had an icy, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach about her. And sure enough, later that day, all of his fears would be confirmed. 

It was nearing mid-afternoon when Olaf walked into his empty shop. He was sitting on a stool behind a counter, when the other man walked up and placed a folded newspaper on the counter.

“How’s it going, pal?”

“It’s going,” Kristoff answered, glancing down at the paper. 

“You've been keeping up with the news?”

“Of course,” he nodded. “It’s all about that dead girl.”

“Cops think she was murdered - no idea who did it, though. Autopsy said she was suffocated, so she was already dead when they put her in the snow. Big reward.”

“Yeah?” He asked, feigning aloofness.

Olaf narrowed his eyes. “Are you playing stupid?”

“No, why would you think that?”

“Because I just told you that the dead girl was probably murdered and that there was a lot of money to find her killer, and you’re the only one who can find out who that bastard is.”

Kristoff stared blankly at the other man.

“The clock is ticking. They’re hauling her body to the cemetery _today_.”

“So soon?”

“No friends, one family member. No point in letting her fester. Are you in or not?”

“Do I have a choice?” Kristoff asked drily.

“Good answer. Now let’s get moving, we have a long drive and you need to change your clothes.”

He glanced down at his outfit before standing up and walking around the counter. “Where are we going, exactly?”

“A small town called Arendelle.”

He swallowed, unsure if he heard the detective correctly. “ _Arendelle_?”

“Yeah, are you familiar with it?” Olaf asked, picking his newspaper up off of the counter, folding it up, and tucking it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. 

Kristoff nodded. “I grew up there. Until I was ten.”

“Well, I hope you’re ready to go back.”

“Do you…?” he started, then trailed off. He was almost afraid to ask.

The other man looked at him pointedly. “Do I what?”

“Her name,” he spit out. “Do you know her name?”

“Anna Andersen.” He pronounced the first “A” in her name incorrectly; pronouncing it like the “a” in “apple” instead of like the “a” in “alms.”

“ _Anna_ ,” he whispered, correcting the other man’s pronunciation.

The detective cocked an eyebrow. “You know her?”

“She lived across the street from me,” he answered, simply. It wasn’t enough to convince the other man.

“Seems like she was more than just a neighbor.”

“I haven’t seen her since I was ten,” he shrugged, though a profuse blush was spreading across his cheeks.

“Mmhmm,” Olaf acknowledged, though he remained unconvinced. “Well, we better get moving. 

And the next thing Kristoff knew, they were on the road. He wasn’t quite sure how he ended up driving, though he was grateful for the distraction. His mind was spinning; he couldn’t believe that she was gone, forever, and worse, that he was going to be forced to have one measly minute with her when he selfishly wanted more. He wasn’t even sure if she’d remember him after so much time had passed - perhaps if she didn’t, it would make it easier on him. And then there was the other problem - should he mention that he’s the reason her father died?

His heart started palpitating as they drove past the cheerfully colored “Welcome to Arendelle” sign, and it only worsened as they pulled up in front of the funeral home. It was so loud that he was positive that Olaf could hear it. 

He was overcome with a wave of nausea as he stood unmoving by the car, staring up at the looming building. It wasn’t until Olaf, now a few feet ahead, cleared his throat and motioned for him to follow. He did, shoving his hands into his pockets. He watched as the detective handed the funeral director a wad of cash, and the two men were led to a room at the end of the hallway.

“Would you mind if I did this one alone?” Kristoff asked, once the funeral director was out of earshot. They hadn’t entered the room yet, and were standing in front of the still-closed door. “Because I knew her?”

“What could you possibly have to say to her that you can’t say in front of me?” Olaf shot back, obviously offended by Kristoff’s proposal. “We’re here to find out who _killed her_.”

“I know, but she was my friend,” he begged, a few beads of sweat starting to gather by his hairline. “I could use the closure.”

“Fine,” Olaf grumbled. “But you better ask who killed her first.”

“I will.”

“And remember, you have one minute. Not a second longer.” His tone was stern, and he raised a finger as a warning.

“I know the rules,” Kristoff assured him. “Wait in the car?”

Olaf muttered something under his breath, but willingly walked away from the situation. Kristoff held his breath and pushed open the door to the room; it was small, and in the center was a shiny white casket. He hesitantly approached it, trying to gain his composure. The entire thing was surreal; he felt like this was some kind of twisted dream. Acknowledging the fact that he didn’t have much time, he opened the casket and looked down.

She looked ethereal; just like he remembered, but obviously much older. She was wearing an off-white lace dress, her hair parted down the center and each half was neatly draped over her shoulders. Bile rose in his throat as he stared at her, unsure if he could do it. Though it would bring her killer to justice, he was also being selfish.

After another moment or two of looking at her, he decided it was time. He set the timer on his watch, slowly brought his trembling hand to her face, and delicately tapped her cheek with his index finger before taking a step back. She sucked in a breath of air and her eyes flew open. And then she jumped out of the casket.

“I’ll kill you!” She yelled, grabbing the first thing she could - which just so happened to be a candelabra off the fireplace next to the coffin.

“Anna, stop!” He begged, bringing his hands up to his face to protect it in case she decided to throw the candelabra at him. “It’s me - Kristoff - from across the street.”

The look of anger that had shrouded her face quickly faded away and a look of relief washed over her instead. Her hand went limp and the candelabra fell to the floor. “Kristoff.”

She took a few steps toward him with her arms reached forward, prepared to pull him into a hug. He stepped backwards, eventually colliding with the wall. “You can’t touch me,” he warned. 

“Oh.” Her arms fell to her sides and she glanced over at the coffin. “That’s mine isn’t it?”

He swallowed. “Yes. Do you know what happened?”

“I mean, I was hoping that it was all a dream. That I wasn’t suffocated to death with a pillow.”

“You were,” he frowned. “I’m really sorry.”

She blinked a few times, placing a hand on the edge of the casket, but she didn’t say anything.

So, he spoke again. The clock was ticking. “While there’s a lot I’m sure we both want to say, we have less than a minute. So, I have to ask - do you know who killed you, Anna?”

She shook her head, her eyes cast downward. “I don’t - I was sleeping. I didn’t wake up until the pillow was over my face. I’m sorry.”

Kristoff exhaled harshly, feeling defeated. They wouldn’t be able to bring her killer to justice. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“How much time do I have left?”

He glanced down at his watch. “Forty seconds, give or take.”

She gave him a sad smile. “That’s not enough, I have so much to say. All those years, I wondered what happened to you. You just disappeared. I kept hoping that you would come back, but...you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, I -” he was trying to find the words, but it was difficult. He had so much that he wanted to say. None of this was fair. “The state took me away and sold the house.”

“Well, since I don’t have much time left, I just want you to know that I missed you a lot. And I never stopped thinking about you.”

“I never stopped thinking about you, either,” he confessed. “Life just...wasn’t the same without you.”

“I wish things would’ve worked out differently,” she sighed. “My time is almost up, isn’t it?”

He took another look at his watch before nodding solemnly. Twenty-five seconds.

“I’m glad that you were the last person I got to see before...you know.” She huffed a nervous laugh. “Um, if it’s not too much, could you tell my sister that I’m sorry? And that I love her?”

“Of course,” he promised, though he wasn’t sure if Elsa would be keen to visitors. 

“And I hope this isn’t too forward, considering we haven’t seen each other in so long, but I want you to know that I always had feelings for you, and they never went away.”

“Me too,” he said, quickly, a blush creeping over his face. “I mean, my feelings for you never went away, either.”

“How does this work?” She asked. “You just touch me again, and that’s it?”

“Yeah,” he answered, wishing that it wouldn’t have to be this way.

She nodded once, inhaling deeply. “Okay.”

He took a slow step toward her. They had less than ten seconds left now. 

“You could kiss me,” she blurted out suddenly. “That probably sounds crazy but it would bookend everything. You would be my first kiss and my last kiss.”

His breath hitched in his throat, and he nodded, willing to grant her her dying wish. She closed her eyes, and he leaned down, ready to press his lips to hers and then promptly catch her limp body. But instead, he took a step backwards.

She opened her eyes and looked over at him. “What are you doing? Isn’t my minute up?”

Though he was grotesquely aware of the consequences, he had already made his decision. He didn’t want to live his life without her, as selfish as that was. “What if you didn’t have to die?”

“That would definitely be preferable,” she said, a look of relief washing over her features. 

“Okay, look, I’m not supposed to do this because there are _grave_ consequences,” he said in one quick breath. “But I can’t just let you die, again.”

“What are the consequences?”

He closed his eyes, ashamed to admit the truth. “Someone else has to die in your place.”

Her face fell. “Oh.” 

“But it’s already too late,” he assured her, waving his hands rapidly. “I know it’s selfish of me, but I’m not ready to let you go.”

The corners of her lips quirked up slightly. “I’m not ready to let you go, either.”

“Great,” he huffed a sigh of relief. “We have a lot to talk about, though. And we have to get out of here.”

“I can’t just walk out of here,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I’m supposed to be dead.”

He glanced rapidly around the room. “The casket. You have to get back inside.”

“Okay,” she agreed, climbing back in.

“Now, just lay really still,” he directed her. “I’m going to follow the hearse to the cemetery.”

She nodded, and he closed the lid. Wiping the sweat off of his brow, he hastily opened the door and raced out of the funeral home. As expected, Olaf was sitting in the passenger seat of the car, reading his newspaper.

“How did it go?” The detective asked, as soon as Kristoff hopped into the car.

“Uh, it went well.”

Olaf cocked his head. “Did you find out who killed her?”

“No, she didn’t know,” he answered, as he started the car.

“Of course not,” the detective groaned. “Did you get your closure, at least?”

He was staring at his rearview mirror, trying to catch the moment the hearse pulled away from the building. “Sort of.”

“Why aren’t you driving?”

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to go to the cemetery and see the burial.” 

Olaf narrowed his eyes. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, sorry. It shouldn’t take long.” 

“I knew I should’ve driven,” he sneered, unable to hide his annoyance.

A few moments later, the hearse was driving down the street and Kristoff was following closely behind. The cemetery was a short drive away, and because no one was going to be attending the burial, that in itself was going to be quick. He had to come up with a plan.

The two men sat in the car and watched as the casket was brought over to the plot of land where it was going to be buried. Finally, Kristoff got out of the car and walked over, just in time to see it get lowered a few feet into the ground. 

“Hey,” he said to the gravediggers, who turned their attention away from the shovels in their hands. He pointed towards the entrance of the cemetery. “There were some kids near the front. I think they were defacing one of the stones.”

The two men quickly dropped their shovels and raced toward the pickup truck parked a few feet away from Kristoff’s car. As soon as they drove off, he got onto the ground and opened the lid to the casket.

“Thanks for coming back,” Anna smiled.

“After all that, you thought I was going to just leave you here?”

“No,” she giggled. “I’m just really happy you came back.”

He smiled down at her. “Come on, we have to go.”

He wished he could help her out, but luckily, it wasn’t a difficult climb. As soon as she was back on the grass, he closed the lid to the casket. 

“My car is right over there,” he said, pointing at the old car. He still hadn’t decided how he was going to explain this to Olaf, but it didn’t matter at this point. It was already done.

She squinted at it. “Is someone in your car?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s Olaf. He’s my...business partner?” What he also hadn’t thought of was that he was going to have to explain who Olaf was to her and the unorthodox partnership that they had arranged. He decided to cross that bridge when they came to it.

The two of them climbed into the car, Kristoff in the driver’s seat and Anna in the backseat. Upon hearing both doors close, the formerly distracted Olaf turned his attention to the new passenger, and then to Kristoff.

“Kristoff,” he said, a fake smile plastered across his face. “Who’s your friend?”

“I’m Anna,” she answered cheerfully.

The fake smile remained. “Why is the dead girl in your car and not in the ground?” 

“I needed closure,” Kristoff shrugged.

“Your closure was supposed to last _sixty seconds_.”

“To be fair,” Anna chimed in, “there is _a lot_ of history here. A minute wasn’t long enough.”

Kristoff nodded along with her statement.

The detective was seething. “Does she know about the terms and conditions that came along with her newfound gift of life? That someone else died in her place?”

“She’s aware,” Anna answered, referring to herself in third person. “She’s not thrilled about it, but she’s _extremely_ grateful that she’s alive.”

“And you both acknowledge that _I_ could’ve been the one to die in her place, right?”

“That’s why I asked you to wait in the car,” Kristoff explained.

“ _You were planning on doing this all along?!_ ”

“No! Yes? I don’t know, I wanted options!” He exclaimed, starting to feel a little flustered. “Look, it’s over. I’m going to start driving now, we all need to go home and sleep on this.”

* * *

The drive back was a lot tamer than the few minutes they spent sitting in the cemetery. Olaf spent most of the drive muttering to himself, clearly upset that he could’ve been a casualty of Kristoff’s impulsivity. Once they reached the music shop, well past dark, Olaf parted ways without saying a word to either of them, and Kristoff brought Anna upstairs to his apartment. As soon as they entered, Sven perked his head up.

“Oh, you have a dog!” She exclaimed, rushing over to him and immediately dropping to her knees. “He looks just like Sven.”

“That _is_ Sven,” he said, dropping his keys on the small table by the front door.

“You saved him, too?”

“He was the first,” Kristoff explained. “That’s how I…found out about all of this.”

“I see,” she said, smothering the dog with pets and kisses. “You can’t touch him either?”

He stood on the opposite side of the room, his arms tightly crossed over his chest. “No. But, um, we kind of have a lot to talk about.”

“Yes, we do,” she agreed, looking over at him. “So I can’t touch you at all, right?”

He shook his head. “No. Even the slightest touch would mean that you die permanently.”

“No hugs?”

“No hugs,” he answered.

“But what if you _need_ a hug?” She looked at him with sympathetic eyes.

“I haven’t hugged anyone in years, I think I’ll be okay.”

“Fine, what if _I_ need a hug?”

He grimaced. “I’m sorry?” Was all that he could offer.

“And that means no kisses, too, right?”

He shook his head again, suddenly aware that the tips of his ears were burning. “No kisses.”

“Darn,” she said, softly, gently stroking Sven’s fur.

“You can stay here as long as you want,” he promised. “It’ll take a little getting used to, but I’d love the company. Or, you can leave. It’s your second chance at life and you can live it however you want to.”

“Don’t be silly,” she cooed. “I don’t want to leave. The last time I had the desire to leave somewhere, I _literally_ died.” She annunciated each syllable in the world “literally” as if to stress the importance of its meaning. 

“I just don’t want you to think that you’re obligated to stay,” he offered, shrugging his shoulders. “You can have my bed until we can figure out some kind of a sleeping arrangement.”

“I wish sharing was an option,” she said absently, continuing to focus on the dog. “But you don’t have to give up your bed for me.”

“I insist,” he said. He walked over to the couch and plopped down on it. “I’m so tired, I’m just going to stay right here.”

“You’re still wearing your suit,” she pointed out.

“Don’t care. I know you don’t have a change of clothes with you, so feel free to wear something of mine.”

“You want me to go through your drawers?”

“Don’t know what you’d be comf…” he mumbled, his eyes fluttering closed, unable to finish the sentence.

Anna couldn’t help but smile at him; he certainly didn’t look comfortable laying on the couch like that, but she could only imagine how drained he felt.

But an hour later, she, too, would feel incredibly drained. She had yet to change out of the dress she was supposed to be buried in, and was sitting on the edge of Kristoff’s bed, watching television. The entire situation was difficult for her to wrap her head around, and it didn’t help that nearly every station was covering her story. She was grateful that Elsa had chosen a photo to release where she didn’t quite look like herself; a photo from when she was nineteen and had dyed her hair blonde. She was glad that it had been five years and the blonde was gone and she hoped that the world wouldn’t recognize her as the “dead girl” if she went out into it. 

She had never expected to see her own face on television in such a morbid, dismal way. Dubbed a “lonely tourist,” a part of her regretted ever venturing out to that ski resort in the first place. She wished she would’ve been content with the life she was living; just her and Elsa, in their childhood home. Reading books and tending to her garden, but always craving something more. She wondered how Elsa had been coping with all of this; she _never_ ventured out of the house, due to her rampant fear of social situations. Anna was practically her caretaker, and now she’d have no one. She wished she could see her sister again. She wished she’d never left in the first place. 

Snapping out of her daydream and turning her attention back to the TV, the news reporters were now talking about how her murderer was still on the lam, and the large reward for information pertaining to the case. Upon hearing about the reward, she had a flashback to the viewing room; one of the first things that Kristoff had asked her was if she knew who murdered her. Was he out for the reward money? And the man in his car, Olaf, his “business partner.” What type of business were they running? Suddenly feeling very restless and alone, she turned off the television and went back into the living room.

She perched herself on the coffee table, a safe distance from the couch, and grabbed the remote. Gently, she poked Kristoff’s arm with it.

“Kristoff?” She whispered.

“Huh?” He stirred, his eyes barely opening. He wiped at his mouth and sat up slightly. “Is something wrong?”

“Not really,” she lied, but then decided honesty was more valuable. “Well, maybe a little. They were talking about me on TV.”

“What were they saying?”

“They’re calling me a ‘lonely tourist.’ They’re not wrong, but it’s weird.”

He was now wide awake, focusing solely on her. “I can only imagine.”

“Apparently there’s a big reward for finding the person who murdered me.”

The color drained from his face when she said that. “Yeah?”

She inhaled deeply. “You said Olaf was your business partner. What kind of business do you two run?”

“I have the music shop right downstairs,” he admitted, though it was a half-truth. That wasn't what she was asking.

“And Olaf?”

“He’s a private detective.”

“I guess I should just come out and say it,” she said, slightly frustrated at his hesitance. “Was I an opportunity for monetary gain?”

His eyebrows furrowed together. “Pardon?”

“The reward money. In that first minute, you made it a point to ask me who killed me. Was it for the reward money?”

“No!” He insisted. “It was for justice. I mean, the only reason I found out that it was _you_ was because of Olaf and the reward. I had already agreed to go before he told me that it was you.”

“So, your business is to go to funerals, wake the dead, find out who killed them, and collect the reward money?”

“Yeah,” he answered sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Are you mad at me?”

She blinked. “I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to be mad when I’m sitting here in front of you and I _should_ be six feet under.”

“I swear, I only go in with good intentions. To see justice be served. Killers behind bars. The reward money is a bonus; it’s how I keep the music shop in business.”

Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.”

“Don’t be - it’s a little shady. The entire thing was Olaf’s idea. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and he saw me accidentally bring a man back to life and then immediately re-dead him. If he hadn’t seen me, I’d just be a guy with an ability that no one else knows about.”

“And I’d be in the ground,” she added.

He huffed out a nervous laugh. “Yeah.” 

“Part of me wishes that I’d never gone to that stupid ski resort. Why did I have to hate my life? Why couldn’t I just be satisfied with the life I had?”

He paused briefly before responding. “I think it’s natural for us to want to try new things.”

“I feel bad for my poor sister. She barely functioned when I was home, and she warned me about leaving, and now she thinks that I’m dead.” She buried her face in her hands.

“What about your mother?”

“She died a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

She pulled her hands away from her face and ran her fingers through her hair. “You wouldn’t have known. Please don’t think that I’m not happy to be here, because I really am thrilled to be alive and with you, and I’m not taking any of this for granted. It just feels so...strange. Confusing.”

He nodded in agreement. “It will be an adjustment for both of us. There’s still a lot we have to talk about.” The truth about her father was one of the things that he knew he’d have to bring up eventually, though he was absolutely dreading the thought of it.

“I’m sorry for waking you up. I just needed someone to talk to.”

“It’s fine,” he assured her, laying back against the couch. “But you should try to get some sleep. It was kind of a crazy day for you.”

She placed her hands flat on her thighs for a minute before standing up. “Thank you again for rescuing me, today.”

“Of course,” he smiled. “And Anna? I just want you to know that I’d make the same decision again in a heartbeat. No doubt in my mind.”

“Thank you,” she blushed. “Goodnight, Kristoff.”

“Goodnight.”

And so she retreated to his bedroom, keeping her dress on and laying on top of his sheets. She still felt a bit restless, and so she turned to face the wall on the left side of the bed, lifted up her left arm and pressed her palm flatly against it.

Just on the other side of the wall, Kristoff had turned to face the inside of the couch. Unable to sleep and unaware that Anna was doing the same, he raised his right arm and placed his hand against the wall.

Unbeknownst to either of them, without the wall as a barrier of protection, their hands would be touching. 


End file.
